


Trick-or-Freezing

by chucks_prophet



Series: Countdown to Halloween [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel Has Social Anxiety, Dr. Horrible references, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, First-Time Parents Dean Winchester, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Halloween Night, M/M, Parents Castiel & Dean Winchester, Some Humor, Supportive Dean, Trick or Treating, dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 23:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12331143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: However, when it’s Halloween, Cas’s social anxiety tends to be higher than usual. At first, it was hard. Dean’s the kind of guy who can spend hours talking to a random stranger over a mutual bond, especially when it comes to cars, so parties were very natural for him, and a great way to de-stress. But after attending so many by himself, it really put Cas’s role in his life into perspective the first few years they were together. Dean is the wave slamming against the shore. Cas is the quiet that comes after him. And sometimes, when it all seems overwhelmingly loud, he needs that quiet.





	Trick-or-Freezing

**Author's Note:**

> Happy World Mental Health Day, guys! Stay safe every day, and pat yourself or someone you know on the back for making it through another day. <3
> 
> This is for any of you struggling with your social anxiety this season, be it Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, or any big, social holiday. I see you and I hear you.

There’s childbirth, and there’s Halloween.

Childbirth is the pivotal moment in a parent’s life. Halloween is the pivotal moment in a kid’s life.

And for Dean and his husband Castiel, being they’ve both got dangly bits, they didn’t get to experience the first thing with their adopted kids. So they have to make it up with Halloween.

Krissy, the oldest at twelve, is rocking her gothic pirate costume, complete with a black tri-fold hat with red lining, an imitation red and black corset, a matching frilly skirt, and knee-high boots that actually look like they were thrown overseas with the mud on the sides that has the same grip as gum. Not to mention the fencing sword she’s clutching in her right hand—which, despite what the other parents might say tonight, _isn’t_ sharp, and will keep her at an impressive nearly four feet away from the boys her age. (She can kick their ass any day of the week anyway.)

Despite not being blood related, their five-year-old, Jesse, has the same idea with the color scheme. Only, instead of a hell raiser on the seas, he’s dressed as the hell raiser in the underworld. He has a red jumpsuit that extends up and around his head like a hoodie with black horns atop to match the tip of the black tail behind him. His choice of weapon is a pitchfork. Granted he’s a small kid for his age and not as athletic as his pseudo-sister, that’ll come in handy if anyone messes with him tonight.

And Dean’s costume—because what’s the point of having kids if not for the excuse to dress up too?—is a knock-off Frankenstein. Knock-off as in he’s an amateur makeup artist, he ripped up some old, stretched out clothes, and the only shoulder pads he has lying around the house are from his high school football glory days. But then again, Frankenstein isn’t supposed to _be_ the perfect human, much like himself, so if his shoulders look a little lopsided, it’ll just seem more realistic.

(Plus, it would be kinda cool if one of them fell out while he was walking. That would really freak the kids out.)

Cas is going as his matching counterpart, but with the Dr. Horrible version of a mad scientist, because with Cas being so booked with his new job, he hasn’t had the chance to sit down and watch the original Frankenstein movie without dosing off in-between. (Which is fine, because it gave Dean the excuse to watch _Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog_ , and while Neil Patrick Harris isn’t Gene Wilder, Dean has to admit, he’s definitely had more than one wet fantasy about Cas in that same getup.)

However, Cas… well, that’s the thing: Cas is very much like a mad scientist when it comes to big, social events. He keeps to himself as much as possible, locking himself in his laboratory and finding moments of sanity in his creations. The only difference is Cas’s laboratory is their front or backyard, where, no matter what time of the day, whatever time Cas has after the kids and work and Dean (making chemical reactions of their own, let’s just say…), Cas is outside, tending to the gardens.

Which, again, is perfectly fine. Dean’s definitely not complaining, considering a) their house looks gorgeous front and back, and b) when Dean’s using his own time fine-tuning the Impala in the front, Cas is sometimes out there on bended knee, making Dean feel like he’s seventeen again and he’s staring, gobsmacked, at his next-door neighbor from his parent’s lawn.

However, when it’s Halloween, Cas’s social anxiety tends to be higher than usual. At first, it was hard. Dean’s the kind of guy who can spend hours talking to a random stranger over a mutual bond, especially when it comes to cars, so parties were very natural for him, and a great way to de-stress. But after attending so many by himself, it really put Cas’s role in his life into perspective the first few years they were together. Dean is the wave slamming against the shore. Cas is the quiet that comes after him. And sometimes, when it all seems overwhelmingly loud, he needs that quiet.

But now he’s too quiet. Dean opens the sliding glass door to the back porch, where he’s greeted to a familiar sight. Cas is crouched down next to the plants he’s tending to. Except, instead of being in his Zen state, his shoulders are visibly tight, and his feet look more rooted to the soil than the plants. He has his costume on—faded purple dish gloves covering half the sleeves of his stark white lab coat. He even has the gigantic goggles on his head.

“Hey, um… the kids are eating the pizza before we head out,” says Dean. “You wanna slice?”

Cas doesn’t answer, but Dean doesn’t take it personally. He knows Cas is fighting a battle in his head much bigger than Dean can comprehend. He’s just waiting for the last of his thoughts to die off temporarily before he can find his voice amid the chaos.

“I made sure to save the ones with anchovies, I know how much you _love_ them.” Dean tends to whip out his best punchlines at a time when they go underappreciated. Coping through distraction. It’s a gift, really.

Receiving static still, Dean bites his lip a little before moving next to him. He makes sure to keep a fair distance apart, not to startle Cas in his sensitive state, and crouch in the same position he is, so that he’s not looming over him like a potential threat. Again, it’s amazing how much Dean’s learned from someone who doesn’t need to say much to get his point across—that’s _Cas’s_ gift. “The gardenias are looking good,” he points out.

“They’re Rose Icebergs, actually,” Cas says. “They’re extremely equipped to hot climates. In fact, they grow better under pressure.”

“How tall can they get?”

“Two meters, so about six and a half feet.”

“Don’t tell Sam that. You know how touchy he is about his height.”

Cas laughs a little. That’s a good sign. He’s still tense though, even as he plops onto his backside and crosses his legs to use as a floodgate for the tears his eyes are spitting out. His shoulders shake violently, and the muffled noise he makes against his knees is even more pained.

Dean wants everything to wrap his arms around him, but he remembers hard it was for Cas when they first started dating: Intimate relationships were even scarier to him than being in a crowded room. Dean had to wait six months just to kiss him. (So worth it.)

“I’m a terrible parent,” he laments, lifting his head to palm his leaky blue eyes. “I can’t even take my kids out for their first trick-or-treat. Or go to their PTAs. Or school plays. Or sport practices. I mean, what am I _good_ for?”

Dean’s tempted to cry himself because he feels his husband’s frustration. And like he said, he won’t admit to being perfect, either. There are times when Dean gets mad at Cas for something he can’t help. But at the end of the day, Cas is the strong, silent type. Dean needs to return the favor in times like these.

“Hey, look at me,” Dean says gently. Cas does so, eyes shiny with more tears waiting for their cue to fall. “You’re supportive, okay? For Krissy’s school dance, you made her that corsage that had _every_ girl in her class wanting one. You’re smart; you help the kids with their homework. Look at Jesse; he’s the first in his class to complete his addition table because you taught him how to add. And those lunches you pack them, they’re way better than the shit cafeteria food.

And way more creative, I mean, who thinks of making animals out of cheese and hard-boiled eggs and vegetables—and they _love_ them. You single-handedly figured out the million-dollar way of getting kids to eat their greens. _You_ did that.”

Cas’s mouth creases and his whole face falls in on him as a sob erupts from his chest. Before Dean has time to react, he’s crashing into his own. “I just… I wish I could be there _physically_ for them.”

Dean shifts to his knees and tentatively places a hand around Cas’s back. Once Cas sinks into him, he takes the liberty of running his hand up and down, eventually resting inside Cas’s unruly brown bedhead. “The kids love you. I love you.” He repeats this a few times softly into his ear, which makes Cas only cry harder. “We’ll get there, okay? We’ll get there.” Like a bright light in someone else’s driveway, that’s when it hits Dean. “Hey, what if… we took the car?”

Cas sniffles lifting his head to look at Dean. “What?”

“The car,” Dean repeats, scoffing, “we can be in the car while we drop the kids off house-to-house. That way, we’re not mingling with the crowd, but, you know, we’ll be in our own little bubble—and with AC, no less.  Plus, if anything, it’ll probably be safer for the kids, too. Who knows about walking late at night anymore anyway.”

Cas nods slowly. “I think… I think I could handle that.”

“It’s up to you, babe,” Dean says cautiously, “I don’t want to put you out of your comfort zone.”

Cas shakes his head to Dean, mouth somehow quirking up through his snot-glazed upper lip. “No. No, that sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Let’s do it.”

 

 

That night, Krissy and Jesse get lots of candy, Dean gets a lot of compliments on the car from passerbyers, and Cas is too consumed with the radio to notice, belting out “Brand New Day” from _Dr. Horrible_ as they weave through the neighborhood.


End file.
